


Waking Dreams

by Actual_Writing_Trashcan



Series: Colossus Hyperfixation Collection [27]
Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, a good way to end the fluff saga of november, because next week is going to be ANGSTY, just a short fluffy blurb, literally no warnings for this one, so enjoy the happiness while it lasts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 00:29:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16821505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Actual_Writing_Trashcan/pseuds/Actual_Writing_Trashcan
Summary: Piotr wakes up during the middle of the night and ponders his life and future with you when he can't fall back asleep.That's it. That's literally, actually it.Enjoy this thing my brain came up with during an allergic reaction to latex.(Set after Moving In.)





	Waking Dreams

He’s not entirely sure what pulls him from the depths of sleep. Maybe a random noise outside, maybe the remnants of some nightmare that he already can’t remember, but the point remains: he’s definitely awake.

Piotr stretches silently. 

The room’s still dark, save for the dim light of the moon slipping past the curtains. The hall outside is silent too, and the only other noises within hearing range are your heavy breathing and the sound of a toilet flushing somewhere nearby.

He sighs, and pointedly turns away from his phone and bedside clock. He knows better than to check what time it is; it’s clearly night, there aren’t any pressing emergencies, texts, or calls, and looking at the time will on let the frustration of being up at some godforesaken hour for no good reason set in.

So, without anywhere else to look, he looks at you.

You’re nestled in a pile of pillows and blankets next to him, star-fished on your back and mouth slack as you slumber peacefully.

He smiles tiredly as he watches you. _Krasivaya. Even when she sleeps, she takes my breath away_.

He’d be the first to admit that he’s not some wild, airy romantic --though he does come in several strides ahead of his older brother, _thank you very much_. He doesn’t think he could never live without you. He knows his world wouldn’t fall apart if you weren’t in it. He doesn’t fathom how he managed to exist without you at his side.

He knows who he is outside of you. He’s a teacher, an X-Man, a person who believes in finding the best in people and helping them become that best version of themselves. He’s an artist, a brother and son, and --he likes to think--a decent man. A good man, even.

But he also knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you make his life so much better by just being in it. That while his world was bright and colorful and happy before he met you, you’ve added a certain depth that he can’t quite put his finger on what it is, but that he notices whenever it ebbs, even for a moment.

And shouldn’t that really be the point of relationships? Not finding someone you can’t live without, but finding someone you don’t want to live without. Finding someone who clicks into the right place, and fits better and better as the years pass because the two of you keep learning about each other, about how to be the best version of yourselves for each other.

He smiles softly as you shift in your sleep. _I hope she knows how well she fits in my life. How natural it feels to have her in my arms_.

A content smile settles on your lips, and you hum softly before you start snoring.

He huffs a laugh into his pillow, careful not to wake you up. _That’s my myshka_.

He ponders what the future will look like as the fuzz of sleep starts creeping into the edges of his mind again. He’s already so lucky to have the privilege --and it is one because he considers it to be one--of falling asleep and waking up next to you on a daily basis. The two of you already share a room, a home, so much of each other’s lives. Really, the transition from being partners to spouses --whenever the right time comes, but he does hope that it’ll be sooner than later--really won’t be that much of a transition at all.

He think it’s best that way. He’s not one to judge how people go about building relationships, as long as it’s healthy and consensual, but he does like knowing that being spouses will be a natural fit for the two of you, rather than a crazy, unimaginable leap.

A sleepy smile stretches across his face when he realizes that, someday, you’ll be Mrs. Rasputin. _Bozhe moi... that sounds... perfect_.

Flickers of other dreams --having children with you, having your own home or apartment that’s just for the two of you, getting to see a wedding band on your ring finger--pop up and ebb away, lulling him into a sleepy state of hopeful contentment.

He jerks out of his light doze with a sharp inhalation when he feels the bed move, then smiles when he sees that you’ve nestled up right next to him in your sleep. He shifts so that you’re not cutting off the circulation to his arm, then closes his eyes again.

If there’s a life better than this, he doesn’t want to hear about it.


End file.
